Two weeks after my ca//ncer removal surgery, my mother-in-law flushed my prescribed pa/inkil/lers down the toilet because she claimed, “God doesn’t like drug ad//dicts in a Christian household.” My husband agreed, tossing my surgical drain bags into the trash and telling me to get up and mow the Texas summer lawn. Writhing in excruciating pain on the bathroom floor, I didn’t beg for mercy. Instead, I called my brother. Within 48 hours, their world came crashing down.
Part 1: The Cold Verdict “A good wife would have planned around the Lord’s calendar, Garrick. Let’s hope this ordeal teaches...
